


the devil seeks out lonely hearts

by gabriphales



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, gabriel has some severely repressed issues my dudes, just a drabble rlly abt gabriel being jealous and guilty, watch out for ur local archangel they may just start crying any second now, will i ever not say fuck u to canon???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 09:35:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21455878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: gabriel stumbles upon a certain scene set in 1941. he isn't remotely happy
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	the devil seeks out lonely hearts

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in the span of an hour crying to movie soundtracks. i have no excuses

It’s uncontrollable, the rage simmering in every limb, every muscle, every last particle making up Gabriel’s corporeal form. His lungs seem to collapse in on themselves, all the air he didn’t need--but still found himself so desperate for--utterly sucker punched out of him. His own nails break the tender flesh of his palms, hands curled into fists positively _aching_ to connect with the jaw of a certain demon he knew far too well. 

Yet, somehow, despite the way he can feel his fury burning him from the inside out, scorching whatever reason he still manages to possess into bits of ash and soot, he isn’t moving. He wants to run, he wants to run and scream and kill, absolutely kill this wicked beast standing before him. But he doesn’t. All he can do is stand incredibly still, his body comatose as his mind races inexplicably fast.

It’s a scene wicked to behold; Aziraphale, in the arms of a _demon,_ being cradled ever so sweetly, ever so softly. He’s up on his toes, raised so that his lips should be level with Crowley’s own, and _oh_\--isn’t that a sight? Aziraphale, allowing his mouth to be so filthily claimed by something brutish, nefarious, _unholy._

Gabriel can hardly stand to watch, but he doesn’t look away. To look away would be to accept that this is happening at all--if he watches, watches and pretends that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t real, that he’s imagining this dalliance of treacherous courtship, then perhaps he can convince himself everything’s alright, he’s okay. Aziraphale’s arms sling tight around the demon’s shoulders, and quite suddenly, he’s being hoisted off the ground, spun around like a newly-wed bride, and absolutely enthralled by it all.

Gabriel’s heart, had it ever been beating in the first place, could have stopped at that alone. They were so… _happy_ together. Even amidst all the rubble, all the chaos and disaster surrounding their little bubble of splendor, they’re unbearably happy. Gabriel doesn’t understand it. Truth be told, he can barely even process it. 

He doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to acknowledge that a demon, a wretched, foul thing, could achieve the one goal always hanging just beyond the reach of Gabriel’s fingertips. A delight he’d never be able to indulge in, a prospect never to be realized. All he’s ever wanted, all he’s ever yearned for--being the one to make Aziraphale _happy._

Why should he fail time after time, only succeeding in pushing the other angel further away, unnerving him more than anything else, when a beast too cursed for even God to love had managed to swoop in, sweeping Aziraphale off his feet.

It isn’t fair, _none_ of this is fair. He’s been betrayed, but Heaven knows he can’t bear to be angry with Aziraphale. No, no, this must all be the demon’s doing, there’s no other realistic explanation. Aziraphale, a being of _love,_ was sent down here by himself, all alone, secluded from his kind. How could he help but fall for the first person to look his way, offer him any sort of attention? It’s not his fault, it’s _Crowley’s._ It’s Crowley’s, for taking advantage of something as vulnerable, as desperate as Aziraphale. Like a lamb led straight to the slaughter.

All Aziraphale needs is somebody to save him, make him feel loved again. Crowley’s endearment is clearly ephemeral--his intentions clearly impure. Whatever his end goal was, Aziraphale had no part in it. Gabriel would make sure of that. He didn’t belong with him, regardless of whatever meek perception of fondness Aziraphale believed Crowley had for him.

And yet, in the heat of his own holily justified wrath, Gabriel’s twitching with something not unlike guilt. It’s ridiculous, ridiculous and irrational, but he can’t help noticing the similarities so obviously connecting him and Crowley. The urges they share, both uniquely forbidden from their wants, though for completely different reasons. Perhaps they were more alike than he could stand for them to be, and perhaps, ever so slightly, that thought was eating away at Gabriel.

Knowing he could act upon his desires at any moment, and he’d be no better than the lowest of the low, the darkest of evil. Aziraphale’s too good for Crowley, that much is indisputable, but doesn’t that hold such a cruel, bittersweet truth just waiting to be read between the lines? If he’s too good for Crowley, then he’s too good for Gabriel as well. They’re both a danger to him. The only difference being that Crowley knows how to disguise himself better.

When Crowley invites Aziraphale into that blasted old car of his, Gabriel doesn’t bother with sticking around. He spares himself the pain of knowing, inevitably, what events will perspire in that backseat. And when he returns to Heaven, he speaks no mentions of any demonic activity.

Biting back the words that could put an end to Crowley, put an end to their little _arrangement_\--well, that hurt just as terribly as Gabriel had expected it to. His mouth tastes like iron as he spits out a meager “Everything’s fine, nothing to worry about down there, Aziraphale’s doing an _excellent job,_” in regards to their current state of earthly affairs, but he swallows the pungency down, doing his best to ignore it. The other archangels accept it without further comment, and silently, Gabriel thanks the Almighty above that she should show him such a lovely morsel of mercy.

If only she would be so merciful as to spare him from this entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo uuhh ty for reading ilu!! if u leave any nice comments just know i appreciate them sm im just too shy to reply lmao (my tumblr is @alqhacentauri u can contact me there if u wanna scream abt gabriel)


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